


Love to Ride The Bull

by vecchiofastidioso



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Transgender
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vecchiofastidioso/pseuds/vecchiofastidioso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As per a k!meme fill request: "Dwarf Inquisitor Cadash riding on Iron Bull's shoulders, and using his horns to steer him (and maybe later back at base or something Cadash steers Iron Bull back to their bed using a different horn *hint hint*). Could be platonic friendshippy fluff or like maybe the two of them just like pranking each other and horsing around, IDK, or shippy, I like shippy. My only request being that it's not because Cadash being ashamed of their height. They like and are happy with themselves at the height they are, even if they do sometimes have to ask for a boost."</p>
<p>And I'm going for shippy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Call Bull

**Author's Note:**

> This Cadash is transgender, FTM, because I love how Iron Bull gives no shits about it, just accepts their true gender as a man. That's why this work is tagged as an M/M ship. If Iron Bull and Cadash both say Cadash is a man, then Cadash is a man.
> 
> The rating of "mature" is due to definite swearing, crude jokes, and potential for smut.

    There were advantages to being a Dwarf.

    Immunity to magic, not hitting your head on low beams, less likely to get blown over in a storm. There was something to be said for having a low centre of gravity and a dense body—all those muscles from training and fighting and having to run to keep up with all those nug-humping long-legs. And being so small could be handy for moving through crowds. Not to mention occasionally coming across people who you actually liked having their asses at the perfect groping height, or with bosoms you can easily bury your face in with a delighted sigh.

    But today...today was not a good day to be a Dwarf.

    It was somewhere around the fifth peel of laughter, or the eighth cry of “Are you seeing this, Inquisitor? It’s incredible!” when Cadash snapped.

    “No, I _don’t_ see it!” he growled. Not that he was horribly interested in whatever tomfoolery was going on in the square anyways. It was Orlesian. Couldn’t be all that incredible. In fact, he had enough ‘incredible’ shit going on for an Age. A Dwarf with the ability to close Fade rifts? Now that was incredible. Orlesian ponces...poncing about...not quite so incredible. And honestly, quite irritating, since everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves. “In fact, I call bull.”

    “Huh, boss?”

    “I said I call bull. As in bullshit.”

    “Dunno why you would want it, but I suppose I can save some for you later.”

    “You ass!” Viggo punched the nug-humping Qunari as hard as he could in the thigh, and all he got for his efforts was a deep, booming laugh from the muscle mountain. “You know what I mean! It’s bullshit! I don’t see what’s so great about...whatever it is that’s going on. We came here for a reason, and it isn’t to watch Orlesians do what Orlesians do best: be utter ponces.”

    “To be honest, I’m not seeing the appeal either,” Varric sighed from nearby. “But it’s not like we’re going much of anywhere. Might as well let them have their fun until the streets clear up a bit.”

    The Inquisitor made clear what he thought of that idea with certain non-verbal and certainly inappropriate communication before letting out a distinctly un-Inquisitor and un-manly yelp as suddenly, unexpectedly, his feet left the ground. It took him a moment to realise he wasn’t just soaring randomly through the air, but being hoisted up by an arm practically as thick around as the Dwarf's waist. “Bull!”

    “Quit your bitching, boss,” the Iron Bull retorted indulgently. He settled his diminutive leader on shoulders Viggo was sure could carry an actual bull—or maybe even a bronto—and patted the Dwarf’s back hard enough to make Viggo grunt and fold over the Bull’s head slightly. “Comfortable?”

    “I feel like I’m straddling a cask, but I won’t get any delicious ale out of this.”

    His words earned him a giant hand plopped on his head, ruffling fiery curls. “Yeah, yeah.”

    “For fuck’s sake, Bull, everything about you is too big. I could even sit on one of your bloody horns and have plenty of room. Wouldn’t fall off, because there’s even a hand-hold. You could even have Varric on the other horn to even it out.”

    “I’m good down here, thanks,” the storyteller interjected with a chuckle. “I like the ground _just fine_.”

    So did Cadash, and he was about to point this out when the hand on his head turned his head to see the display everyone had been exclaiming over. “But you weren’t seeing _this_ from the ground.”

    ...Okay: he had to admit there was a certain beauty in the graceful acrobatics. Despite the terrible Orlesian fashion (not that Viggo was one to talk, wearing leather all the time) and the masks...Cadash found himself resting his chin on his hands, cushioning his jaw from Iron Bull’s thick and hard skull. He could understand the oohing and ahhing as he saw the flashes of colour.

    “Hey. Bull.”

    “Yeah, boss?”

    “You’re still an ass.”

    Bull simply chuckled and patted Viggo’s leg while the Dwarf winced slightly. “You’re welcome.”


	2. Steering, Not a Steer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per a k!meme fill request: "Dwarf Inquisitor Cadash riding on Iron Bull's shoulders, and using his horns to steer him (and maybe later back at base or something Cadash steers Iron Bull back to their bed using a different horn *hint hint*). Could be platonic friendshippy fluff or like maybe the two of them just like pranking each other and horsing around, IDK, or shippy, I like shippy. My only request being that it's not because Cadash being ashamed of their height. They like and are happy with themselves at the height they are, even if they do sometimes have to ask for a boost."
> 
> And I'm going for shippy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Cadash is transgender, FTM, because I love how Iron Bull gives no shits about it, just accepts their true gender as a man. That's why this work is tagged as an M/M ship. If Iron Bull and Cadash both say Cadash is a man, then Cadash is a man.
> 
> The rating of "mature" is due to definite swearing, crude jokes, and potential for smut.

            There were only two downsides to Viggo’s relationship with Iron Bull so far: 1) for a Ben-Hassrath, Iron Bull was shit at keeping his mouth shut and 2) Varric could be pretty gleeful with what Bull said.

            “So...riding the Bull, eh?”

            Cadash glanced up at his fellow Dwarf over a stack of reports, then rolled his eyes. “Bull’s been flapping his mouth again, I see.” He sighed and slapped the papers down. “Idiot doesn’t know when to shut up. And no, it isn’t _that_ sort of riding.”

            Varric chuckled and spread his hands wide with an innocent expression. “I said nothing, Inquisitor! I merely sought confirmation.”

            “Uh-huh.” Viggo wasn’t fooled. Staring hard at the bard, he shoved himself to his feet, stood glaring at the unfazed Dwarf, and began pacing with an explosive sigh. “I’ve read _Hard in Hightown_ , Varric. I know exactly what sort of riding you’re imagining, so let me give you what really happened, not the Iron Bull version.”

            “I’m all ears, Inquisitor.”

            First off: trousers stayed on. Not that Bull really had much else to take off...but the point was that things weren’t going...that way. No riding the Bull’s bull. Honestly.

            Not that Cadash wasn’t intrigued...but that was a story for another time.

            But Cadash and Iron Bull were getting along these days. Bull would haul Viggo under one arm when making tracks away from Venatori fireballs, Cadash would call the Qunari an ass and insist he could run _just fine_. Laughter and promises for drinks at the tavern ensued. Shit like that. And occasionally, Bull actually went through with his promises of drinks.

            It was one of those nights, when both of them had drunk more than a Qunari and a Dwarf should drink, that Cadash clambered up onto the Bull’s shoulders, the better to see one of the serving girls dance to music a minstrel had struck up. The Inquisitor was quite happy with both the perch and his view, and sighed as he rested his tankard on Iron Bull’s head.

            “Y’know...it’s still like...like straddling a cask with no prize in it,” Viggo declared loudly to be heard over the music and cheering. “But ye’re a good viewpoint, Bull. Mountain over the mountain! Or somethin’.”

            Iron Bull roared with laughter and nearly dislodged the Dwarf when he leaned back and shook with the force of his mirth. “You just don’t want to admit you like riding the Bull!”

            “Buuuuuuuuuuuull.”

            “Yuuuuup. That’s my name.”

            Cadash tapped the damned Qunari with his tankard, muttering Dwarven curses when he noticed the action made him lose nearly half his drink. “Y’know what I mean. It’s bullshit. Ye ass.” He sighed again and leaned over his friend’s head, arms dangling over the horns. “Bull. Bull. Iron Bull.”

            “Yeah, boss?”

            “Can you imagine...like...me riding you into battle? Instead of riding in on a horse or a bronto or something, I could ride...the Iron Bull. And just. You could... _charge_. Straight at ‘em. And we’d kill ‘em all.”

            Chuckling, the Iron Bull surged to his feet, sending a minor collection of tankards flying and making Cadash spill the last of his drink. Nug shit. The Inquisitor rolled his eyes and tossed the tankard over his shoulder just in time for Bull to begin charging to the door with whoops and hollers following behind them, leaving Viggo clinging to the horns. Later, Viggo would feel eternally grateful to the poor soul who had just opened the door before Bull reached it, since it saved him from getting splinters in his hands from the Qunari charging into the door head-first. It left Cadash free to whoop and lean hard to the left, while Bull followed his lead with bellowing laughter.

            “Like that?”

            “Fuck yeah!” Viggo shouted. “Perfect! Look, we could even—we even have a steering system!”

            A very wobbly steering system, since the both of them were falling-down drunk by that point. The Inquisitor even almost fell forward over his mount’s head, but his grip on the horns saved him.

            “So...you literally...”

            “Yup. Rode the Iron Bull.” Viggo paused and stroked his chin. “Should see how it goes when we aren’t utterly pissed.”

            Varric snorted and shook his head with a 'get out of here' flip of his hand. "Eh, I liked my version better. But let me know how that goes, Inquisitor."


End file.
